


Jaskier Pankratz' Playlists for the Emotionally Unstable

by Rob_the_Chemist



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: ADHD, Abuse, Alternate Universe - College/University, American colleges I know nothing about whoops, Angst, Anxiety, Bipolar Disorder, Depression, Eating Disorders, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, F/F, F/M, Gen, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Jaskier | Dandelion Has ADHD, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, So much angst, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, drugs and drinking and parties
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:40:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24920200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rob_the_Chemist/pseuds/Rob_the_Chemist
Summary: "Jesus, Jask," Ciri mutters, her eyes widening as she scrolls through his phone. "How do you have this much music?"Jaskier shrugs. "I have a playlist for everything.""I can see that," Ciri says. She scrolls farther. "Nepal?" she asks quizzically."Ah," Jaskier says. "The playlist I made when your insanely gorgeous yet completely emotionally constipated brother called me a mistake."Ciri's face turns a little red and she starts to round on Geralt but seems to think better of it. The fire in her eyes promises later, though, and Geralt shrinks into his seat. Ciri goes back to Jaskier's phone."holy fuck YES?" she asks, eyebrows raised.Jaskier smiles. "The one I made the first time he told me he loves me."OR: College is a rollercoaster and Jaskier documents the experience through Spotify.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 14
Kudos: 126





	Jaskier Pankratz' Playlists for the Emotionally Unstable

**Author's Note:**

> So this story should be a whole heckin lot of fun. This is how it works: each chapter title is a playlist title in Jaskier's Spotify and in the beginning I'll list ten songs from the playlist, and if you want to listen to them you are more than welcome to. The first chapter was a lot of backstory and not a lot of music in the actual writing and I'm sorry, but I promise it's coming. Have no fear.
> 
> Let me know if you want me to make actual playlists on Spotify and link them in the story. I'll see what I can do.
> 
> ALSO HUGE TRIGGER WARNING!!! FOR, LIKE, EVERYTHING!!! PLEASE READ THE TAGS!!!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

lets GOOOOOOOO

1) “Movin’ Out (Anthony’s Song)” _Billy Joel_

2) “Dog Days Are Over” _Florence + The Machine_

3) “Way It Goes” _Hippo Campus_

4) “Someday” _The Strokes_

5) “Do It All The Time” _I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME_

6) “Good Ass Intro” _Chance the Rapper_

7) “Come Down” _Anderson Pak_

8) “Backstreet Freestyle” _Kendrick Lamar_

9) “Netflix & Dusse” _Smino_

10) “Say So” _Doja Cat_

“You know I don’t have to go, right? I can still stay. If you need me here.”

Jaskier doesn’t look up as he breaks the comfortable silence in the garage. His hands flex nervously around the roll of packing tape he’s using to seal up the last of his boxes.

“Oh my god.” Even though he’s not looking at her, he can practically _hear_ how hard Kitty is rolling her eyes at him from where she’s sat queuing him a playlist for the road. “For the last time, Jask—you’re _going_ to college. I’m not letting you stay here and be miserable for the rest of your life.”

Jaskier’s hands clench harder. “But dad—”

“Oh come on, he couldn’t give _two fucks_ about me if he _tried_.”

“Mom—”

“I can handle mom, Jaskier. You know I can,” Kitty says, and her voice has gone soft now because she knows how scared he is that something will happen to her. To either of them. Jaskier feels a familiar warm bloom of fondness in his chest and has to swallow down the surge of panic that follows it.

He doesn’t know what he’s going to do without Kitty. His younger sisters bring him more joy than anything else in the world and he loves them with a fierceness that occasionally still shocks him. He feels like he can be totally himself around them, like there’s absolutely nothing he has to hide—and while the twins are still too little to understand certain parts of him Kitty just _gets it_. Sometimes he thinks she knows him better than he knows himself. The thought of not having her around all the time makes his stomach churn.

“Hey.” A hand comes to rest on Jaskier’s arm, and when he looks up she’s grinning at him big enough that it makes her cheeks pink, like she always does when she gets really excited. “C’mon, dude, get hype! You’re going to _college_ , Jask, in _California_. Like—fuck yeah, man, that’s _awesome!_ ”

Jaskier feels the smile spread across his lips without his permission. As much as he wants to keep sulking, it’s impossible in the face of her enthusiasm. And besides, she’s right. He’s getting out of the rainy gloom of Portland, away from the harsh scrutiny of his father and the oppressive sadness of his mother. Finally, after eighteen years, he’s _free_.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, okay—it _is_ awesome. It’s _awesome_.”

Kitty laughs and hands him his phone, which he shoves in the back pocket of his pants. “Okay, college boy, let’s get this stuff in your car.”

There aren’t many boxes. Toiletries, clothes and shoes, a _load_ of school supplies, décor Kitty picked out for him. A couple books and his laptop and all his chargers. And, _of course_ , his speakers.

“That should do it,” Jaskier huffs as he stuffs the last box into the backseat and then steps away to take a look. His car isn’t _that_ small, but it still looks like it might burst. He scratches his head. For as minimal as he’d kept his packing, it sure takes up a lot of space.

“Great! Now let me just get the snacks I—”

Both he and Kitty whirl around as the door to the garage opens, and Jaskier feels a familiar tendril of dread curl in his stomach as their father steps down the couple of stairs to stand in front of them. His eyes trail over Jaskier and his lips purse, and Jaskier knows he’s taking in his bright red velvet button-up and matching corduroy pants, not quite tight enough to be scandalous but almost, with disdain. He swallows and smooths the shirt nervously.

Adrien Barreau disapproves of his younger son in all aspects. From the way he dresses to the way he talks to the way he _thinks_ —in Adrien’s eyes, everything about Jaskier is _wrong_. It’s a fact he has no qualms reminding Jaskier of at every given opportunity, even if Jaskier can only read it in the man’s expression.

“Katarina, please go inside. I need to speak with Julian alone for a moment,” the man says. Kitty’s eyes flit to Jaskier’s for a split second before she says, “Yes, father,” and makes her way slowly into the house, glancing back at her brother every few steps.

When she’s gone, Adrien rakes his eyes down Jaskier’s form once again, grimacing. “Horrific,” he mutters, seemingly to himself. Jaskier wonders if he’s talking about the clothes or his son. He finally meets Jaskier’s eyes.

“You know, of course, Julian, that there will be consequences if you behave inappropriately at university,” he says, almost casually. But the steel in his dark eyes betrays the threat for what it is. “Do not think that you can get away with delinquency just because you are no longer living in my house.”

 _Delinquency_ , Jaskier knows, is anything Adrien disagrees with. Jaskier is all of these things. Incredibly loud, excessively cheerful, flamboyantly bisexual. He loves music and colour and laughter—he is the embodiment of everything Adrien hates.

“You don’t own me,” Jaskier snaps. He’s not really sure if he’s meant to say it or if it just came out. Adrien raises an eyebrow.

“You’d do well to learn to hold your tongue, Julian,” he says coolly. “ _N’oublies pas les conséquences._ ”

 _Don’t forget the consequences_. Jaskier bites back a shudder.

“I won’t pay for any sort of queer nonsense degree,” Adrien continues. “I expect you to choose a well-paying career befitting a real man. I refuse to allow your… _preferences—_ ” his lips curl “—to soil the name of this family. Do I make myself clear?”

Jaskier clenches his teeth so hard his jaw cracks to keep himself from blurting out something he’ll regret. He doesn’t need to be reminded of _the consequences_. “Yes, father,” he grits.

Adrien nods once. He frowns at Jaskier at lets out a sigh. “Such a waste,” he mutters, shaking his head. “I allowed you to spend far too much time with Anastazja.”

Jaskier bristles. “Fuck you,” he growls before he can stop himself.

He doesn’t even see Adrien raise his hand before the back of it collides with his cheek, snapping his head to the side and making stars explode across his vision. He wipes his wrist under his nose to make sure it’s not bleeding and then presses his palm to his face, and when he looks up his father is gone. He scowls fiercely.

“Cunt,” he mumbles. He keeps his voice low just in case. When the door to the garage opens again a second later he flinches and squeezes his eyes shut, thinking Adrien has heard him and waiting for the next blow.

“It’s just me, Jask.” Kitty’s low voice makes him sigh in relief. His shoulders slump.

Kitty walks over and hugs him fiercely, the cooler of travel snacks she’d packed for him crinkling against his back. “I wish you never, ever, ever had to come back here again,” says with her face smushed against his chest. The fabric of his shirt muffles her voice and he huffs a half-laugh, bringing a hand up to ruffle her hair.

“Too bad, Kit-Kat, you’re still stuck with me,” he says softly. A flare of worry lights in his chest. “You sure you’ll be okay without me?”

Kitty pulls away, looking up at him with serious blue eyes. “I promise,” she tells him earnestly. “And you can’t promise you’ll be okay if you stay here, and if you’re not okay I won’t be okay, so you have to go, okay?”

Jaskier chuckles for real this time. “Whatever you say, kid.”

“Hey!” she protests, affronted. “I’m, like, _two_ years younger than you.” Jaskier sticks his tongue out at her.

The door suddenly bangs open and Charlotte and Danielle burst into the room, shoving past Kitty and trying to climb all over him. “Julian, Julian!” they shout, and Jaskier laughs again and finally sits to let them clamour into his lap.

“You didn’t say bye-bye,” Elle accuses, poking his nose.

“ _Papa dit en français_ ,” Lottie says. She crosses her arms and tries her best to look stern. Jaskier fights a smile—with her deep brown ringlets and dark, innocent eyes she’s completely adorable and not the least bit authoritative.

“I’ll tell you what,” he says to the twins, leaning in conspiratorially. Lottie and Elle lean in too, their eyes wide. “If you promise to be good while I’m in school, I won’t tell daddy that you said goodbye in English.” Now that they’re five Adrien is teaching them to speak in French, and he’s very strict about it. A little break should make them happy.

“Ooh, yes!” Lottie squeals in delight. “Promise!”

“Me too,” Elle agrees, face serious and sincere. Jaskier can’t help his smile this time.

He holds them both close, giving them a little squeeze that makes them giggle, and then kisses the tops of their heads.

“All right, kiddos,” he says, gently nudging them off of his lap and standing. “It’s time for me to say bye-bye to mama. Remember your promise.”

“We will!” they chorus before scampering back into the house. Jaskier watches them go with an ache deep in his chest and then turns to Kitty, who is leaning against the hood of his car and smiling softly at him.

“You’re gonna be so great, Jask,” she says. “You can do fucking _anything_. Don’t let whatever bullshit dad spews keep you from doing what makes you happy.”

Jaskier’s heart swells and his eyes begin to sting. Dammit, he doesn’t want to cry. It’s not like he’s leaving forever, not like he’s never going to see her again—but right now, in this moment, it feels that way.

“I’m going to miss you so fucking much, Kitty,” he gasps, stepping forward and squeezing her against him. She flails and smacks her palms against his back, shouting incoherently into his chest, and he chuckles through his tears and lets her go.

“All right, all right, enough with the melodramatics,” she says, scowling and smoothing her hair. “I’ll call you every Saturday. Go say bye to mom, you great sap. And—hey, don’t forget to take your meds, okay?”

“Got it,” he promises and steals another quick hug, dancing away as she swats at his ears.

“Get out of here!” she exclaims, and Jaskier laughs and bounds into the house.

Once the door shuts behind him, though, he’s filled with an overwhelming sense of melancholy. He starts toward the stairs and then hesitates, wringing his hands. He doesn’t want to see his mother. As much as he _wants_ to wants it, as much as he hates himself for not wanting it, his disinclination doesn’t change.

He wishes things were still the way they used to be. Adrien did have a point about Jaskier spending a lot of time with his mother. While Adrien was grooming his brother Aleksander, who is nine years older than Jaskier, to be just like him, Jaskier had been left with Anastazja. They had been inseparable. She had sang him Polish lullabies and bought him colourful clothes and called him buttercup and he had clung to her like a bee to honey. She had _loved_ him, and he had loved her, and everything had been joyous and magical.

But then she’d had a relapse. Her bipolar disorder had flared up again after three years of management, and she’d had a horrible manic episode that Jaskier is pretty sure Adrien had beaten her out of. She’s crashed into an even worse depressive episode and ever since then she’s been swinging back and forth with hardly any presence of mind and a dubious grasp on reality.

Adrien doesn’t believe in that sort of thing, in mental health or psychology or _crazy bullshit_ , as he calls it. He won’t let her take any medication or see any doctors about it. He locks her up if she becomes manic or suicidal. For _years_ Jaskier has watched his mother waste away and become a shell of herself, and he doesn’t know what to do but he feels like he should and he wants _out_. He’s more relieved to be leaving her than he would ever say out loud, and he _hates_ himself for it.

Taking a deep breath, he makes his way to her room and pushes the door open. It’s dark inside. He can just make out her slight form on the bed.

“Mama,” he calls softly, stepping through the doorway. He sits lightly at the edge of the mattress and rests a hand on her shoulder. “I’m leaving today, mama. I’m going to college.” He’s not even sure if she knows that he’s been accepted into UCLA.

She blinks her eyes open and searches his face vacantly. He can feel the tears coming again. The depression is bad this time, and he _hates_ seeing her like this. He doesn’t even know if she’s fully aware of his presence. But then she smiles at him, just the tiniest lift of the corners of her mouth, and Jaskier’s heart soars.

“ _Mój jaskier_ ,” she sighs, closing her eyes, and it’s almost nothing more than a breath of air. She reaches out from under the blankets to stroke her fingertips over his hand. “ _Kocham Cię_.”

“I love you, too,” he murmurs. “So much.” He leans forward to press his lips to her forehead and then stands, suddenly more desperate than ever to escape Anastazja’s sadness.

He makes his way quickly back through the house to the garage, thankful that he doesn’t meet anyone on the way. He doesn’t want to have to say goodbye again to his sisters or chance another _consequence_ from his father. Not for the first time, he’s really _fucking_ glad that Aleksander had moved out four years ago. He’s almost as much of a prick as Adrien is.

Jaskier shoves himself into his car, squishing things that had fallen into the driver’s seat back to the passenger’s side and then checking the time. Eight AM. Perfect. He should get to the campus between eleven and eleven thirty, and he’s hoping that by that time there won’t be too many people still trying to move into the dorms. He grimaces a little. He’s not looking forward to the fifteen-hour drive.

But Kitty had made him a playlist for that. He scrolls through his Spotify to find it and grins at the title. Then he shuffles the songs, boots up his GPS, and backs out of the driveway for what is hopefully the last time in a long time.

His GPS takes him right along the coast for most of the ride. It’s _beautiful_ , and it’s warm and it’s sunny and he can smell the salt from the shore and hear the seagulls and he _loves it._ The music Kitty chose for him is perfect and he belts the lyrics as loud as he possibly can while he flies too fast down the coastal highway with the wind tearing through his hair.

 _"The dog days are over,_ " he sings, _"the dog days are done. Can you hear the horses? 'Cause here they come."_ All of the apprehension he had felt earlier has disappeared, leaving nothing but happiness and excitement in its wake.

Jaskier takes a break halfway through to eat at a restaurant he’s never heard of and wander along the beach. He changes into a white cotton tee-shirt and blue-and-orange checkered shorts in the restaurant bathroom so that he can put his feet in the ocean. The feeling of the cool water and the soft sand against his toes is so lovely that it nearly takes his breath away, and for a while all he can do is tilt his face toward the sun and just _be_.

By the time he gets to campus it’s dark and he’s tired, and with the day’s adrenaline worn off he’s really looking forward to getting all his shit into a dorm and just _sleeping_. He parks near the registration office and gets out of his car, glancing at his phone to recheck his housing assignment.

He’s really expecting to just get it done and go to bed. So he doesn’t really comprehend the fact that the whole office is dark, doesn’t realise that there’s _no one there_ until he pulls on the door handle and it doesn’t budge. He stares at the door in confusion and tugs again.

“It’s closed,” a voice says from behind him and he startles, nearly dropping his phone as he whips around. There’s a tiny girl there, with white-blonde hair chopped bluntly above her shoulders and bright green eyes ringed with black liner. She looks like a badass, and Jaskier feels a little intimidated. He swallows.

“I—uh—I need…my dorm?” he says, gesturing feebly to his phone. The girl looks at him with a mixture of amusement and pity.

“Move-in hours are over,” she tells him, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t you read the email? It’s 8–9.”

“Shit,” he says, squinting down at his phone. He might have skipped that part.

The girl laughs. “What’s your name?” she asks.

Over his initial shock, Jaskier dips into a shallow bow and says with a flourish, “Jaskier Pankratz at your service, _mademoiselle_. And who might I have the pleasure of addressing this fine evening?”

For a moment there’s silence. Jaskier looks up at the girl, nervous that he’s somehow done something wrong, freaked her out, but the moment his eyes meet hers she bursts into a fit of laughter.

“Oh, my,” she breathes when it’s over, wiping at her eyes. “Do you always greet people that way?”

“As often as I get the chance,” he says, grinning with relief. “But you never told me your name.”

“You can call me Ciri,” she says. “It’s nice to meet you, Jaskier.”

“And a pleasure to meet you, Ciri.” Jaskier glances despondently at the locked door of the registration office. “What is _less_ of a pleasure is this unfortunate predicament I’ve now found myself in. Looks like I’m spending the night in my car.”

Ciri hums thoughtfully. “You from out of town, then?”

“Portland,” he answers, grimacing.

Ciri’s eyes widen. “Did you make that whole trip in one day?” she asks, and at his nod lets out a low whistle. “Damn.”

“Maybe not one of my better ideas,” Jaskier admits, pressing at his aching lower back and leaning back a bit. He groans when his spine pops.

“Okay, listen,” Ciri says firmly. Jaskier is a little taken aback by the sudden strong authority in her tone. “My brothers would kill me if they found out, but whatever. I like you, Jaskier. You seem like a neat guy. And I feel bad forcing you to sleep in your car after making a sixteen-hour trip, even if it’s your own fault for not reading the rules. So as long as you promise not to murder me or anything I’m willing to sign you in as a guest and let you sleep in my roommate’s bed tonight. She’s not here yet.”

Jaskier blinks. “You would do that for me?” he asks incredulously. “You just met me!”

Ciri rolls her eyes. “Whatever,” she repeats, already turning to lead the way. “Just don’t make me regret it. Come on.”

Jaskier can’t help himself. He bounds forward and grabs Ciri into a hug, chanting, “Thank you, thank you, _thank you!_ ”

Ciri yelps and then laughs, swatting at his shoulder in a ways that reminds him of Kitty. “Yeah, yeah, now come _on_.”

Jaskier grins so broadly that it hurts his cheeks all the way up to Ciri’s dorm. He can’t believe his luck. A place to sleep _and_ a new friend? _Fuck_ yeah. Kitty was right.

This is _awesome_.


End file.
